


Hands

by Rsjessen



Series: Drabbles [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Drabble, M/M, enjolras loves grantaire very much but ssh dont tell, its all about the handholding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rsjessen/pseuds/Rsjessen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pain disappeared the moment Grantaire rushed to his side, putting one hand on Enjolras’ back, and another down and to grab his hand again, this time in comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: http://rsjessen.tumblr.com/post/53083633387/foreverstaynotagrownup-orestesfasting

It was the pangs of pain that made him notice it at first.

Whenever they would hold hands, perhaps walking down the street or simply sitting at home or at the Musain, and Grantaire would let go, he’d feel stabs of pains in his chest, like bullets piercing his skin, going past ribs and organs and all the way through him.

The first time it happened he was almost knocked over by the force. He’d let out a small noise of discomfort and doubled over in pain in the middle of the street on which they’d been walking on, on their way back from their first date, where their hand had shyly found each other for the first time ever.

The pain disappeared the moment Grantaire rushed to his side, putting one hand on Enjolras’ back, and another down and to grab his hand again, this time in comfort.

They had been together for two years now; the pain was still as intense as the first time. By now Enjolras had learned to deal with it, hiding it behind carefully masked expression until it subsided.

It wasn’t all the happened, though.

Grantaire letting go of his hand always left him with a feeling of loss unlike any other he had ever felt - not even that time that they fought for over two weeks about something entirely ridiculous and Enjolras had been so terrified that they’d break up, had been as bad as the loss he felt for those brief moments after Grantaire would let go of his hand.

It was as if his mind was screaming at him, telling him to hold on tight or he might lose Grantaire forever. Like something terrible happened whenever Grantaire’s hand slid away from his.

The time at the demonstration were they had been standing side by side, hands clasped together as Enjolras yelled and raged, and someone threw a stone after them hitting Grantaire on the side of the head, knocking the man to the ground, his hand spilling limply from Enjolras’, had almost been as bad as the first time. For a moment he felt a sense of déjà vu, his brain replaying a foreign scene in which Grantaire fell over and never got up again.

After that Enjolras had taken to keeping Grantaire behind him at demonstrations, making sure to keep their fingers laced together at all time.

Corufeyrac teased him about it, of course – Enjolras would have been surprised if he hadn’t.   
Combeferre would simply roll his eyes whenever the Guide caught sight of their hands, firmly pressed together under a table, or their little-fingers keeping a hold of each other if the space between them were too big for Enjolras to reach all the way over to keep the entire hand firmly in his grasp.

Eponine, Bahorel and Feuilly all laughed about it, and had once drunkenly told them that they had made a game out of keeping tally of how many time they could catch the two of them not holding hands. (The score was ridiculously low, but Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to care.)

Joly would often wrinkled his nose when he noticed it, sometimes muttering under his breath about germs and deceases spread by touching, but other times they would catch him fondly locking hands with Bossuet and Musichetta, while gazing at Enjolras and Grantaire with a bright smile on his face.

Marius hadn’t seemed to notice at all, which surprised just about no one, as he was probably too busy holding hands with Cosette, who sometimes looked at the other pair with a kind and all-knowing smile.

Jehan had written them a sonnet called ‘Hands’, which Grantaire had put on the fridge at his apartment – together with a mix of photos of Enjolras and Les Amis, and some of the drawings Gavroche had given him over the years - much to both the poet and Enjolras’ pleasure. (Not so much Gavroche anymore, who at thirteen felt he was way too mature for silly things like drawing and didn’t like the reminder of his childhood).

Grantaire didn’t say anything about the hand holding at all.

Not even at night when Enjolras would bring his hands up to his mouth, giving them a slight peck and cradle them by his face as he fell asleep. He would, however, always be quick to give Enjolras’ hand a tiny squeeze whenever he had to let go, an unspoken warning between them.

And one time, when Enjolras had to go away for a two week conference that had left them both feeling lonely and frustrated, Grantaire had send him a picture message of his hand palm-up with the note: ‘feeling empty’ underneath.

By then, Enjolras figured the artist might need it just as much as he did, and suddenly it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: rsjessen.tumblr.com


End file.
